WE have quarreled; ugly things have been said, <br />Bitter things, in a tone controlled, well-bred, <br />Temperate; we weighed our words, lest the lust <br />Of cruelty lose the edge of being just. <br />We have quarreled over a trifle, one of those trifles <br />That strike their roots to the very heart of each, <br />To the cold and earthy places where even love stifles, <br />And kindness and friendly habit cannot reach ; <br />Those unexplored vaults of the spirit, black, unknown, <br />Where each is a king, but a king ashamed, alone, <br />Afraid of the world, afraid of friend and foe. <br />Oh, human creatures must quarrel, my dear, I know; <br />But if we must, let's quarrel for something great, <br />For something final and dangerous - mastery; hate, <br />Freedom, or jealousy, virtue, death, or life: <br />For then two loves leap up on the wings of strife <br />Into the sun and air of their own souls' sight, <br />Locked together, joined, putting forth all their might <br />That love may survive or fail, or perish or win, <br />But perish not for a trifle. That is sin.<br /><br />Alice Duer Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-a-quarrel/
